


i've changed my plea to guilty

by girljustdied



Category: Veronica Mars (Movie 2014), Veronica Mars (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-14
Updated: 2014-03-14
Packaged: 2019-10-04 20:05:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17310998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girljustdied/pseuds/girljustdied
Summary: veronica doesn’t really do that anymore.





	i've changed my plea to guilty

“Are you gonna ask me if I did it,” he doesn’t ask.

Her voice cracks around a tenderness that after so many years the shape of feels foreign lodged in her throat, “I wouldn’t be here if I thought you did. I’m long past only believing the worst in you.”

“Oh, is that so? Tell me more,” the back of his heel kicking the tire of the car he’s leaning against.

When no alarms sound: “Be serious, Logan.”

“Okay,” he nods. “Veronica, I seriously need your help. Thank you for coming.”

That’s more like it.

-

“What’s the verdict, counsel?” he voices primly when her only response to reading through the case the prosecution has against him is complete silence. “Wait, let me guess …”

Guilty.

Breath caught in her chest, she cleverly skips over saying the word, “It’s not looking good.”

He laughs in the usual mirthless way, “You sound like the pack of glorified ambulance chasers representing me.”

“I meant what I said,” it goes against every instinct she has, but she’s used to that these days—studying corporate law at Columbia will do that to a gal. “If you say that you didn’t have anything to do with Carrie Bishop’s death, then you didn’t. I’ll find someone else to blame, I promise.”

“Now you really sound like my lawyers. It’s uncanny.” He links his hands behind the nape of his neck and leans back into the loveseat they’re sharing, his bicep almost grazing her cheek when she turns to look at him. “Who are you and what have you done with the Veronica Mars who’d call the fuzz on her own boyfriend without a second thought?”

“I suppose you could say that finally getting out of Neptune really did a number on me,” she grins tightly, the nearness of his body making her feel far less evolved. “Not to mention the shenanigans it took to pass the bar.”

He doesn’t move to touch her, “Guess so.”

-

“If I told you that I loved her, would you believe me?”

“Not really,” feels cruel to say the second the words leave her mouth. Logan never seemed to have a problem giving his heart away—no matter how often it ended up back in his own hands ragged and discolored and barely beating. That was her arena.

“Cute.” Then through a big bite of apple, “Guess you haven’t changed quite so much after all.”

“Did you?”

“Did I what?” he plays dead.

She swears the only epic thing about whatever they had was how far back into her head he could make her eyes roll. In more ways than one. “Forget it.”

After throwing the core of his apple in a lazy arc towards a trashcan, “She wanted to have kids and it was starting to feel like a pretty okay idea. So yeah. I loved her.”

Before she can find words to answer that little revelation—

“I still love you.”

Mind fuzzy with the whiplash confessions from Logan Echolls often cause, fight or flight instincts take over. And, well, old habits die hard. Veronica flees.

-

There’s no one else.

A deep breath and, “Listen, Logan—”

Unlocking his door, “I knew you’d crack!”

“I’m not saying you—” her train of thought falters like a schoolgirl that doesn’t know any better when his eyes lock with hers. She squares her shoulders, irritated, “If was an accident, I understand how you’d—”

“Hey, no need to tie yourself into knots, Veronica,” he smiles like he means it. “To be honest, I never dreamed I’d actually stay off of your list of mustache-twirlers for this long. Is this what growth in a relationship’s like?”

“Hold on there, Romeo. We are not in a relationship.” Not reminding herself more than Logan, no way, “I’m with someone else. And deliriously happy, might I add.” _And you might be a cold-blooded murderer_ , she doesn’t.

“Are you coming in or not?”

“Not,” she huffs before she kisses him.

-

“Just admit it, Veronica. You’re here because you missed all the melodrama and dark shit. You could never go straight—”

“Why do you always have to make helping you so fucking impossible?” she snaps. “When are you going to quit being the obligatory psychotic jackass in my life and just grow the hell up, Logan?”

It’s the first summer they were together all over again. Tensions too high, both too afraid of what truths sex with each other would wring out of their aching, broken bodies.

He kisses her firmly. Presses her back against the alley wall, “Yeah, because growing up’s done wonders for you.”

Gasping for air, “I can’t do this. I won’t.” And when he has the audacity to look wounded, “I need to find out the truth and you’re not helping.”

“Since when do you actually give a damn about who killed Carrie Bishop?”

She clamps her mouth shut to keep from voicing all the questions she doesn’t trust him to answer anymore—not now that he knows he can still kiss her and get away with it.

Not now that she knows it, too.

-

“You really think I did it, don’t you?” he’s joking, maybe, but his stare is burning with unvoiced hostility. “That make you hot?”

“Yeah, you got me,” she can only quip at this point. “It really gets my motor running to find out you’ve turned out exactly like your father. Bravo.”

“Well, you know, apples, trees, whatever.”

“How can you even joke about this?”

“Gee, I don’t know, Veronica,” he mutters. “How could you be serious?” And then, at the door with one last glance in her direction, “You know what, forget it. I hope you get your man, Veronica. I really do. See you when I see you.”

“Logan, wait!” she cries out, the adrenaline rushing through her exhilarating but not the enemy of thought most make it out to be. Far from it. “Don’t go.”

His large hands cupping both sides of her face make her mind hum and whoosh like the inside of a seashell, but it’s her that keeps dizzily pressing forward to kiss him again. Kiss him rougher, harder. The span of his shoulders is familiar but the effortless strength as he reaches down to lift her and the tightly muscled lines of his stomach are not. Time has been kind to Logan Echolls.

It’s suffocatingly silent. His breath hot and wet against her skin, her hands shaking as she struggles with the button of his jeans. Her back against the wall, she closes her eyes and clutches at him, legs tightening around his waist to inch her further up his body. She keeps waiting for him to say something, anything, tell her—

He only lets out an anguished groan against her mouth when he enters her with surprising gentleness, his pulls out quick but thrusts in slow and purposeful.

Veronica’s mouth makes the shape of his name but all that comes are strangled hisses of air forcing themselves out of her lungs.

-

He’s innocent.

“Still love me?” he picks at old wounds like most men sing love songs.

“Yes.”


End file.
